


Reason Not the Need

by jdjunkie



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, Episode Tag, Episode: s07e18 Heroes (2), Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-13
Updated: 2011-10-13
Packaged: 2017-10-24 14:08:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/264322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdjunkie/pseuds/jdjunkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daniel struggles with the aftermath of tragedy and the fragmentation of a friendship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reason Not the Need

  
  
“Sha'uri!” Daniel surfaced from the dream like a diver breaking the surface of the ocean. Gasping in air, he felt the last remnants of the nightmare fogging his brain, smudging the line between what was real and what wasn’t.   
  


He swallowed hard, willing his heartbeat to slow, his mind to clear. Still breathing heavily, he reached for the glass of water he’d placed by the bed in the bunkroom. Taking a gulp, he realised his hands were shaking and that some of the liquid was in danger of hitting the blanket. He placed both hands round the glass, took another, smaller, sip and replaced it carefully on the floor.

Jesus. Sha'uri. It had been months since he’d dreamed of her. Not since that first night back at the SGC when he’d fallen asleep with the photograph of her lying on the bed. Why her? Why now?

As his breathing steadied, he lay back down and ran a hand over his face. Why now? He knew exactly why now. There was no rhyme or reason to how the subconscious dealt with loss and grief. Four years ago he had lost his wife. Today they had said goodbye to Janet.

Loss was loss.

Taking a deep breath, he sat up slowly and picked up his glasses. He hadn’t wanted to spend the night in the bunkroom but then he hadn’t wanted to go home either. Decision-making seemed difficult. What did it matter where he spent the night? When he woke up, Janet would still be dead and his mind wasn’t about to offer him any peace about that.

“Perhaps some breakfast Daniel Jackson” … “Cassie would really like to see you Daniel” …. “Get some sleep. You look like shit….” What did it matter? What the fuck did any of it matter?

  
  
  
He’d thought that re-taking human form would imbue him with some form of all-knowing wisdom. What a joke that had been. He was no wiser about how to deal with feelings now than he had been before he died. Actually, he preferred the term ascended. Easier to deal with. So much more … emotionally acceptable.   
  


Emotions had never been his strong point. Oh, he had them. In spades. He could empathise and sympathise with the galaxy’s most unlikely beings, from naked-looking near-humans to hulking great, symbiote-munching aboriginal Unases. But extending himself that same understanding was more often than not beyond him.

His ability to rationalise his own feelings had been buried beneath sandstone pillars when he was eight. It had been lost to him completely on an Abydos day when the earth had consumed a shrouded body. He was under no illusions that he would find Janet’s death any easier to cope with than the others that had shaped his life.

There had been chinks in his emotional armor in the past seven years, generally pried open by the world’s most unlikely close friend. His nominal commander. His very own, personal thorn in the side. And they had been opened for good reasons – the warm comfort of an embrace in a cold, sterile storeroom – and for ill – harsh words spoken over an unwanted bottle of beer in a room that until that point had spoken of home. But once opened, he had always managed to close those gaps again afterwards. Oh yeah. He showed his deepest emotions all right. He was just very choosy about who he showed them to. Usually it was an exclusive club of one.

But, for the most part, Fortress Jackson remained intact, despite Jack O’Neill’s best efforts.

Rising from the bed, Daniel walked to the sink and splashed water on his face. Dabbing it dry with a towel, he knew at once that more sleep was beyond him. It was 2.27am.

Opening the bunkroom door, he realised he had no idea where he was going. It was just another decision to make. Another irrelevance.

The corridors of the SGC were pretty much deserted. A lone airman carrying a stack of files passed him on the way to the elevator. “Sir,” he snapped out. Daniel wished they wouldn’t call him that. What the hell was so wrong with first names anyhow? Daniel had recognised a look of – what? Concern? Surprise? – in the young soldier’s eyes as he passed him and he took a minute to look down at himself. He was a mess. His clothes were dishevelled in a distinctly un-military way. He realised that that might bother a lot of people round here. He was used to falling asleep over a translation at his desk and to spending several nights in a row in the nearest bunkroom when workload demanded it. Sleeping in his clothes was nothing new.

He ran a hand over his T-shirt and tried to smooth the wrinkled arm of his jacket. It had never bothered him before. Why the hell was it bothering him now?. He felt tears spring hot and unwelcome to his eyes. How strange. For no apparent reason, he was upset over a creased uniform. But he hadn’t managed to cry over the death of a close friend.

He stopped walking and found himself back in the iso room. The room where he had given the reporter the tape. The room where he had died. Ascended.

He wasn’t all that surprised to find himself there. He had sought, and found, some solace there earlier. He was drawn to the place as if it magically held some of the answers.

He walked inside. It was so dark and quiet, so different from how it had been the day Oma stopped by. Then it had been filled with pain – his and that of his friends – and with love. Oh, so much love. He swallowed hard and ran a hand over the harsh, military-issue bed covers. Closing his eyes, he recalled the hazy agony of the radiation sickness; the feeling of life draining away, leaching out of his body, blood drop by blood drop. Janet had fought so hard for him and even at the very end, even after Jack had reassured them all that “it’s what he wants,” she had still called out in her distress. Not willing to relinquish this precious life. _“Colonel!”_.

Shaking his head at the memory and shivering slightly, Daniel moved away from the bed and edged towards the corner, where Bregman had found him. He leaned back against the wall and slid down to the floor, wrapping his arms around his knees. He let his head fall back and closed his eyes.

He felt suddenly alone. No. Not alone. Lonely. It hit him like a bolt from the blue. He was used to being alone. He sought out solitude. He liked being alone. But there was a world of difference between feeling lonely and being alone. A very definite distinction.

He didn’t like it.

Not once in his years at the SGC had he ever felt lonely. There had always been someone to offer a beer at O’Malley’s, a night of Star Wars videos, a game of chess.

There had always been Teal’c, there had always been Sam and there had always, always been Jack.

Now? Now there was Teal’c. Solid, dependable, reliable Teal’c. He had been a rock since Daniel’s return from the ascended plain. Sessions spent meditating and talking had helped ease Daniel’s way back to his former life. They had spent hours in the gym getting Daniel in the best shape of his life. They’d eaten lunch, with Teal’c filling him in on the world news he’d missed during his time away.

In many ways, it was easier between them now than it ever had been and he was very grateful for that.

Sam? Well, Sam was busy. Her role as 2IC with SG1 had always meant hard work and lots of it. But somehow she seemed … distracted, preoccupied. Time spent with Daniel had been minimal since his return. Instead, she had seemed to seek out Jack for company. And while Daniel did not begrudge her friendship with her commanding officer, he felt the loss of Jack’s company rather more keenly than he was willing to admit.

The more time Sam spent with Jack, the less time Jack spent with Daniel.

Jack. Somehow, everything always came back to him. It always had. Right from his first night back on Earth all those years ago. _They don’t know what to do with me, and I don’t know what to do with myself_ …. The more things change, the more they stay the same…

Back then, Jack had taken him home, plied him with beer and listened to his tales of life on Abydos. Life with Sha’re. Jack had told him of Sara’s decision to leave him. They’d had far too much to drink and Jack had put him to bed in the spare room. Daniel had woken up sobbing after a dream in which Sha'uri had called out to him, begging him to find her. He had been hugely embarrassed. Jack had merely taken him in a glass of warm milk, patted his shoulder gently and said not to sweat it, he’d been awake anyway.

It was, by any standards, an unlikely friendship. The hard-assed military veteran and the shy, socially-awkward academic geek. And yet it worked. It worked so damned well. At least it had until Oma came a-knocking and persuaded him to take the shortest route to the Great Path.

Since coming home, Daniel had not been too sure where his relationship with Jack was at. He knew Jack was glad to have him back, he didn’t need to have it spelled out in letters ten feet high. But somehow, somewhere, they had lost their connection, the one that drew them together like iron filings to a magnet.

And he wasn’t sure they could ever get it back.

“Hey.” The word, though spoken softly, jolted him back to the here and now and he jumped a little.  
The shadowed figure, backlit by the low light from the corridor, was unmistakably Jack, hands in pockets, leaning against the door jamb. Daniel had no idea how long he had been standing there.

“Hey.” Daniel turned his face from Jack, unsure he wanted to talk to him right now.

“Been hitting the caffeine too hard again?”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s 3am. Time for all good little girls and boys to be tucked up in bed.”

“Well, I’m not little and I’m not … good … so I guess that explains that.”

Jack pursed his lips. “I had a pie craving. Stopped by the commissary just in case Freda had accidentally left some lying around.” He moved into the room and stood next to the bed, waving a hand idly in its direction. “Do you mind?”

Daniel shrugged in answer.

Jack took that as a yes and eased himself up on to the bed. “She hadn’t. Left any lying around.”

Silence.

“What are you doing here Jack?” It came out a little sharper than Daniel intended.

“Well, I stopped by your office and you weren’t there. Teal’c said he hadn’t seen you since the memorial service. I thought this might be a good bet.” He looked around the room. Anywhere but at Daniel.

“No, not why are you _here_ , _why_ are you here?” Daniel turned to face him, his eyes holding a challenge.

“We, ah, don’t seem to have seen much of each other since 666. Thought maybe it was time to put that right.” Jack met his friend’s gaze levelly. “Thought maybe you might want to talk about it.”

Daniel smiled and nodded. “That has to be a first. You. Wanting to talk.”

“Ye-ah. Scary isn’t it?”

“Well, hard as this might be for you to believe Jack, I don’t want to talk about it. Or about anything, actually. For once, I have nothing to say. There is … nothing to say.” Daniel hugged his knees in tighter to himself.

Jack pouted. “My linguist at a loss. Clearly you were right. My speeches really are nowhere near peppy enough.”

Daniel regarded Jack thoughtfully. “ _Your_ linguist?”

Jack shrugged. “Who the hell else’s would you be? Griff wouldn’t want you; Edwards would rather employ an Unas. It’s just a phrase Daniel.”

Daniel met Jack’s gaze. The silence weighed heavily between them.

“You got something to say Daniel, spit it out. I don’t do oblique.” Jack sounded unhappy and uncomfortable in equal measure.

“No, no you don’t. In fact, you don’t …” Daniel bit back the words. He nodded to himself and let out a long sigh. “I’m tired. I need some sleep.” He levered himself up off the floor and made to walk past the bed.

As he drew level, Jack said softly “I saw the tape, Daniel.”

Jack shifted slightly on the bed, in time to see Daniel stop. Daniel’s back was rigid with tension. “So?”

“So. You may well need to sleep. You also need to talk.”

“Jesus, Jack. Have you been reading Mackenzie’s How To guide again? Nothing I say can change anything.” He turned his head slightly towards Jack. “Janet’s gone.”

“Yeah. I noticed that.”

“Be hard not to if you’ve seen the tape.”

“It wasn’t easy to watch.”

“It wasn’t easy to be in.”

“You did everything you could, Daniel.”

“I did?”

“You did.”

“Well, thanks for the pep talk.” Daniel sighed and turned his face away. “You’ve still got to work on the pep part of it. I’ll see you in the morning.” He made it another three paces.

“You’re blaming yourself.” It wasn’t a question.

Daniel halted again, shoulders slumping.

“No, Jack. I’m not blaming myself. I blame the Jaffa who shot her.”

“Then, why won’t you talk to me about this?” There was an edge of annoyance in Jack’s voice that triggered a matching response in Daniel’s.

“I _am_ talking about this.”

“You call this talking?”

“I’m saying something, you’re replying, admittedly in an irritating way, but replying nevertheless. I believe that constitutes talking.”

“You know, you really can be a condescending little shit sometimes. Hiding behind words is not something I expect from a guy with 23 languages under his belt.”

“And what exactly do you expect, Jack?” Daniel turned to face Jack, his body language radiating tension and a desperate anger. “You want some great unburdening of my soul? You want me to sink to my knees, berate the moon, call down the wrath of the gods?”

“Well, it would be a start. It would be some sort of honest response to what happened. Because that sure as hell isn’t what I’ve been getting up till now.” Jack’s voice was raised, carrying its own measure of desperation. “Fraiser died in front of your eyes, Daniel. She bled to death as you watched. Don’t you dare tell me that isn’t fucking with your mind. Don’t you dare tell me that. Christ, I’ve seen you dissolve into a heap of emotion over a fucking android, dammit.”

Jack’s attention was drawn to a box of band aids left sitting on the bed. He juggled it in his hands, turning it over and over. Daniel found the movement irritating.

“Why didn’t they challenge you?” A patented Daniel non-sequitur.

Jack looked taken aback. He shook his head. “What?”

“When you told Jacob to stop. Why did no-one ask you how you knew I wanted Jacob to stop.” Daniel put his hands in his pockets, his stance almost defiant.

“I … really haven’t thought about it.” Jack was thrown off course by the abrupt change of subject matter. “Why do you think no-one asked me?” He had put the box down and pulled a long strip of band aids from it. He began tearing them off, one by one. A short, ripping sound accompanying each pull. Daniel’s irritation ratcheted up another notch.

“I asked you first.”

“And I’m asking you now. You’re still not talking to me here.” Pull. Rip.

“I think they thought that you knew me better than anyone.”

“And?”

“And so you’re absolutely right. Janet’s death is fucking with my mind. But not in the way you think.”

“Daniel, I stopped playing Riddle-Me-Ree when Charlie was four. I like my questions and answers straightforward and to the point. Call it the military man in me.” Pull, rip. Pull, rip.

Daniel closed his eyes as the irritation reached epic proportions “You know, I chose to ascend because I thought I could make a difference. Because I thought I wasn’t making a difference here. And for all that’s happened, I still don’t know whether I’m making any kind of a difference at all. Here, there, it doesn’t matter.” Daniel took his hands from his pockets and wrapped his arms around himself. “I couldn’t save Janet.” His voice bore no anger this time, only regret.

“Daniel, all the medical equipment at the SGC’s disposal couldn’t save Fraiser. The staff blast took out just about every vital organ, she lost so much blood that…”

“Christ Jack, you don’t have to spell it out. I was there, remember? I’m the one who couldn’t get his hands clean.” The arms wrapped a little tighter.

“Are you speaking metaphorically here?” Jack paused in his destruction of the plastic strips and looked askance.

“What?”

“The hands clean thing. Is that a metaphor?”

Daniel sighed. “Jack stop it. It’s been a long day. I’m really not up to playing word games with you.”

“Afraid you’ll lose?” Jack quirked a half smile and returned his attention to the band aids.

“No. Afraid I’ll want to strangle you if you don’t stop pulling those damn things to pieces, don’t shut up and don’t let me go to bed.” His shoulders hunched up towards his ears.

Jack eyed his wanton destruction as if it were the work of someone else and emptied his hands. The little strips landed on the bed. “You know, we really haven’t talked much at all since you re-joined the land of the living.” He looked up at Daniel.

“I’ve been here.” It was Daniel’s turn to check out the room décor.

“See, that’s not exactly true, is it? I mean, yes, you’ve been here but half the time I haven’t been sure where your head’s been at, so to speak.”

“I’ve been here. Where have you been?” Daniel’s light tone seemed to belie the importance of the question.

“There you go again. Daniel, if you have something to get off your chest for God’s sake let’s hear it. I’m getting a little tired of this tap dance.” Jack picked up a handful of the band aids and fired one at the waste basket in the corner. He missed.

“All I’m saying is that you haven’t been here much lately.” Daniel suddenly found his boots to be of great interest.

“Now, see I’m starting to get one of my headaches. What. Do. You. Mean? I feel like I’m talking to one of those glowing monks on Kheb. What in your oh-so-roundabout kind of way are you trying to say?” Jack’s voice was rising again and he leaned towards Daniel, his expression suddenly intense.

“You seem to have been spending a lot of time with Sam lately.” It was a statement. Not an accusation.

“I have?”

“Haven’t you?”

“I think Carter’s been spending a lot of time with me.” Another band aid hit the floor rather than the basket.

“There’s a difference?”

“I think so.”

“How?”

“Daniel, are you jealous?” Jack pursed his lips, frowning.

“No. And don’t change the subject. This isn’t about me.”

“Oh but I think it is.” Another flicked band aid bit the dust. “ It’s since Prometheus.” The words were grudging.

“What is?”

“Ever since she got stranded. She’s been a little … odd. Clingy. I think she has issues.” Another piece of plastic was launched, this time more vigorously.

“We all have issues, Jack.”

“Translated to you have issues with me?”

“Some.”

“Such as?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Sometimes, now and again, from time to time…” Daniel tailed off.

“For crying out loud, Daniel…”

“I miss you. Us. I miss us, Jack.”

The words came out fast and harsh. Daniel’s tiredness suddenly became overwhelming. Giving in to the fatigue that seemed to permeate every inch of his body, he retreated until his back hit the wall and slid slowly to the ground. Unable and unwilling to face his friend, he closed his eyes and willed the darkness to hide him and his raw feelings.

He heard a rustle of clothing and the clunk of army boots hitting the floor as Jack lifted himself off the bed. Daniel didn’t need to open his eyes to know that Jack was crouching down opposite him. He was just inches away but it felt like miles to him.

“I think, I think we need to talk, Daniel, about a lot of things. And perhaps this isn’t the time or place to do it.” Jack’s voice held the gentleness Daniel hadn’t heard in so long. It was exactly what Daniel needed and precisely what he feared. Months of carefully crafted barriers were in danger of being stripped away and he knew there was nothing he could do about it.

Opening his eyes, Daniel was aware of the dampness on his cheeks but was too drained to care any more. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was crying for – for Janet, for himself, for everything that was wrong, everything he hadn’t been able to make right….

Jack was looking at him in a way that took him back to a storeroom half a decade before. Another time, another existence. But the need was still there. The need for friendship, for help, for love. And as that realisation dawned on Daniel, in that same split second he could see his thoughts reflected in the anxious gaze that held his so determinedly.

Jack’s mouth turned upwards into a small, wry grin. “Déjà vu?” he asked softly.

Daniel summoned up a small smile of his own. “Déjà vu.” The reply was barely audible.

Daniel closed his eyes and nodded slightly. He felt a hand come to rest awkwardly on his shoulder and found himself reveling in its warmth. He scrubbed the forearm of his jacket across his eyes and looked up at his friend through drenched eyelashes. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

Jack cleared his throat. “S’okay. You might want to get that to the cleaner’s in the morning though.” Jack nodded at the wet sleeve of Daniel’s jacket. “The salt. Bad. Leaves marks.”

Daniel smiled. “Right.”

This time the silence felt more natural.

“So. You wanna sleep or you wanna go in search of a pecan danish? I’ve heard tell Teal’c has a stash.” Jack straightened slowly, wincing slightly as his knees protested.

Daniel considered his options. “Pecan would be good. Caramel apple would be better.” Jack held out a hand and pulled Daniel to his feet.

“You are such a sophisticate, Doctor Jackson.” Jack placed his hand in the small of Daniel’s back as they made to leave the room. It was a simple gesture, reminiscent of days gone by and it felt so right. Daniel suspected it felt that way for both of them.

“Class will out, Jack.” Daniel glanced back at the bed. His voice softened. “Janet would’ve been pissed about the mess.”

Jack smiled.

The banter was easy, familiar and comforting.

Nothing much had been solved but it was a start of sorts. They would go on from here.


End file.
